Mick dropped his backpack on his favorite low leather chair. He felt the cool kiss of a breeze from the overhead vents. He went still. “Is that the air conditioner?”
Eddie nodded. “She had the A/C guy here before I left for work. Said she couldn’t expect Miguel’s crew to work in this heat.”
“Well, I couldn’t,” Whitney said, bringing an ice-cold beer into the room. She started to hand it over to Mick then stopped. “Wait. Are you on call tonight?”
“No.”
“Good.” She smiled and handed him the beer.
“Thanks.” He reached out and hauled her close for a kiss. She melted into him, the taste of lime and mint filling his mouth. “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively. “Mojito?”
“You know it,” she said, patting his shoulder. She carefully unwound herself from his arms. “Give me a few minutes in the kitchen to get everything together. Then you two can help me carry food into the dining room.” She headed out of the room and called over her shoulder, “Then we can talk.”
Eddie made a face. “I don’t like it when women want to talk.”
“Me either,” Mick agreed, “but I think it’s probably for the best.”
Eddie harrumphed. “I suppose.”
“Don’t you think it’s a good idea to get some ground rules laid out?”
Eddie considered that for a second. “Yeah. You’re right. We definitely need to talk.”
“Guys?”
Mick and Eddie rose and headed into the kitchen where they discovered a selection of platters and bowls overflowing with food. Stomach growling, Mick licked his lips. Before he could reach out to take a tortilla chip from a bowl, Whitney smacked his hand. “Uh-uh! Wash your hands first!”
“Yes, Mother.” Duly chastised, Mick walked to the sink and gave his hands a good scrub. He held them up for his inspection. “Clean enough?”
Whitney gave them an exaggerated once-over. “Yes.”
“You know I wash my hands at work all the time.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t keeping them clean at work,” Whitney replied. “But you’re still in your scrubs. I just don’t want you sprinkling MRSA all over my chips and salsa.”
“These are clean scrubs,” Mick assured her. “I changed into these after my last surgery of the day.”
“For what it’s worth,” Eddie interjected, “she makes me wash my hands the second I set foot in here, too.”
Mick narrowed his eyes in mock disdain at Whitney. “Germaphobe.”
“And damn proud of it,” Whitney retorted with a saucy little wink. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Mick and Eddie loaded up their arms with dishes and followed her into the dining room. The new décor looked even better up close. There was a faint smell of paint in the air but nothing the spicy scent of cumin and chili powder couldn’t cover. The inviting terra-cotta color on the walls complemented the dark wood of the table and chairs. Whitney had replaced the old curtains and plain rods with a more ornate bronze bar and cream-colored panels. All the old furniture looked so much better.
“I am so impressed, Whitney.” Mick leaned over and pecked her cheek. “I can’t believe how quickly you got this done.”
“Well, that’s Miguel for you,” she said, taking her seat. “He runs some of the best crews in town. When I got to run my first show, I had a so-called friend who totally stabbed me in the back and forgot to hire the construction crew to put the set together. I found Miguel, and his guys threw it together in a night. And it was good work, too,” she added. “None of that half-ass bullshit.”
“I bet he’s not cheap,” Mick commented, a little concerned about the mounting costs for the project.
“He’s not,” she confirmed. “But”-she smiled and helped herself to a steaming-hot tortilla from a Styrofoam container-“he owes me some favors and gave me a great deal. I can wipe it out with my bonus from the Paris show.”
“No,” Eddie said. “We’ll pick up the tab.”
“Whatever.” Whitney shrugged. “I’ll find the bill later, and you two can duke it out.”
Mick laughed, and Eddie snorted. They slipped into easy conversation about their workdays. Whitney’s boss was surprisingly supportive of her decision to switch jobs and had offered to slide into Whitney’s position after she left to guide her successor. Eddie and his team had served warrants without a hitch, most of it due to Eddie’s anal-retentiveness and thorough planning. There had been a violent bank robbery downtown that had the police worried. Mick hoped it was a one-time affair and not the first in a string of robberies. That was the last thing the city needed.
“And you?” Whitney asked.
“Same old, same old,” Mick answered. “Construction injuries. Car wrecks.”
Whitney’s pretty little nose wrinkled. “No details, please.”
Mick chuckled and scooped some refried beans onto a tortilla chip. “I’ll spare you this once.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a sweetheart.”
“I try.”
“So”-Whitney pushed food around her plate-“um, about last night.”
Eddie perked up and sat forward. “Yes?”
Mick listened with bated breath.
“I, uh, well”-she blushed-“I really enjoyed it. I was just wondering if that was, like, a one-time deal or…?”
Mick and Eddie locked eyes before turning their attention on her and replying in unison, “Not a one-time deal.”
She seemed relieved and sat back against her chair. “Good. I was worried it was one of those heat-of-the-moment things and that it was going to be weird and you’d toss me aside.”
“Never,” Eddie said forcefully. “You’re not disposable.”
“We want you, Whitney.” Mick reached over and took her hand. “We’ve wanted you for a long time.”
“Like a relationship?”
She seemed hopeful, so Mick pounced. “Yes. We’ve been looking for the right woman for so long.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“We know it’s you,” Eddie said. “But”-he inhaled a slow breath-“if you’re nervous or if this is too much too soon, we understand.”
“It’s just a little overwhelming,” Whitney admitted. “Can we take it a day at a time?”
“Of course,” Mick agreed. “Eddie and I were talking earlier, and we thought it might be helpful if we had some ground rules.”
“Like?” She swirled the ice in her mojito.
“Monogamy.” Eddie tapped the table with his finger. “When you’re with us, you’re with us and no one else.”
Whitney seemed affronted. “I’m not a cheater.”
“We didn’t mean to imply you were.” Mick shot an annoyed glance at Eddie. “We’ve been burned in the past.”
“I see.” Her gaze lingered on Eddie. “I’m not that kind of girl, Eddie.”
“I know,” he said, his voice thick. “I’m sorry I insinuated otherwise.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. Looking thoughtful, she asked, “So what happens on a date? I mean, do I go out with one of you on, like, Wednesday and the other one on Friday? Do we sort of double date? Or do we not go out in public at all? Is this some kind of secret thing we don’t share with outsiders?” She chewed her lower lip. “I don’t know how this threesome thing works.”
“We do whatever you’re comfortable with,” Mick explained. “Obviously, this choice isn’t something a lot of people understand or support. Generally, Eddie and I keep our trysts on the lowdown.”
“So no dates?” She seemed a bit disappointed.
“No, we’ll take you out,” Eddie promised. “There are some places that are…friendlier than others.”
“And,” Mick chimed in, “if you’d prefer, we can always do one-on-one dates. I like the opera. Eddie hates it. Eddie loves paintball, and I hate that. There are plenty of things we can do with you without the other feeling left out.”
“On that note,” Eddie said, “I’d prefer if we avoided any one-on-one sex for a while. Just until we’re sure where this thing is going,” he added.